


Enspelled

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Category: Suits (US TV)
Genre: Drama, Fix-It, Humor, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-19 14:31:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17003448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike is marrying Rachel for real this time, and Harvey will employ any means necessary to stop it from happening.





	Enspelled

**Author's Note:**

> Here you go, liflififr. Merry Marvey Christmas!

Harvey charged into _Spell Craft_ , sending the bell over the door rocking and jangling out a shrill warning. His heart pounded in his chest, which barely contained the panic percolating inside him since he’d gotten the news. He scanned the store frantically for Sebastian, and spotted him stocking shelves in the far corner. As Harvey strode back to confront him, the thick scents of copal resin, sage and sandalwood assaulted his nostrils.

“Mike’s getting married,” he choked out.

Sebastian’s startled grey eyes regarded him through the scratched lenses of his thick, black glasses. Half a dozen boxes of tarot cards slipped from his grasp and tumbled to the floor. “That’s impossible. The binding …”

“Was crap, as it turns out. I should have known better to believe in any of this … this _bullshit_.” Harvey waved an arm violently around the occult store.

“W-wait. N-no. No, no.” Sebastian held out a hand, as if he expected Harvey to take a swing at him. “That binding spell was perfect. S-some of my b-best work.” He took a step away from Harvey, backing into the shelves and sending more cards and books to the floor.

Harvey regretted his harsh words. Sometimes he forgot how jumpy Sebastian could get in the face of even the slightest hint of aggression. He moved closer, wincing when he saw Sebastian flinch. Harvey squatted to pick up the tarot cards, handing them up to the other man, who hesitated before taking them from Harvey and placing them with exaggerated care on the shelf.

“I’m serious,” Sebastian said with a sniff, voice shaky. “That binding should have kept Mike single indefinitely, unless … “ He gave Harvey a sudden, piercing stare. “Did you leave town?”

“I had to go to Chicago to help out a friend. What? I was only gone for a couple of days.”

Sebastian groaned. “I warned you, Harvey. You’re integral to the binding. Your energy. Your intent. Distance dilutes strength. I told you all this a year ago.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue.

Harvey’s stomach plummeted sickeningly. “Shit. I guess I forgot.”

“Forgot? Or didn’t believe me?” He turned away, a hurt expression on his pretty face. “Nobody ever believes in my abilities until it’s too late.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I believe you now. So …” Harvey moved his hand in a _come on, get on with it_ gesture.

“So … what?”

“Do it again. Bind him. Put a stop to the wedding.”

Sebastian’s mouth twisted, and he began to look even more uncomfortable than he had before. “I can’t do that.”

“Why the hell not?”

“It’s a one-time thing.” He moved his hands in the air between them, tracing paths or symbols that only he understood. “The first binding is clear, clean, pure and strong. Repeated attempts muddy and weaken, opening the world up to contaminated intent, which could result in unpleasant consequences.”

“I have no idea what any of that means.”

“It means the answer is no. Sorry, Harvey, but you blew it.”

He shook his head, jaw tight, rejecting Sebastian’s bleak finality. “No. There has to be a way. Not a binding spell then.” He thought rapidly, and then snapped his fingers. “A love spell. Something to make Mike realize it’s me, not Rachel, that he should be with.”

Sebastian had started shaking his head at the mention of the words, “love spell,” his expression severe. “No. No way. Absolutely not. Those things are bad news. Don’t you read books? Watch movies? They always backfire in spectacular fashion. And what about the moral considerations? What about consent?”

“What about it?”

“Wow. I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

“Where’s the consent in a binding spell?”

“It’s different. Not by much, I’ll grant you, which is why I argued so strenuously against it, if you’ll recall.” Sebastian crossed his arms and chewed his lower lip. “Look, Harvey, it might be time to bow to the inevitable. Mike doesn’t feel the same way about you. He’s in love with someone else. Maybe consider letting him go?”

The rational part of Harvey could acknowledge that Sebastian was right. The other part, the part that was so in love with Mike he was sick with it, couldn’t accept the advice. He wanted Mike. Mike wanted him. He _knew_ it. Mike just needed a nudge, a metaphorical elbow to the ribs to wake him to the possibilities of something different.

“So, you’re saying you won’t do it?” Harvey pulled out his wallet. “Are you sure? Name your price.”

“No.” Final and certain. There would be no swaying him.

Harvey considered hurling threats at Sebastian, of bullying him to get what he wanted, but quickly discarded the idea. They’d been friends for too long, ever since Harvey had saved Sebastian’s store from eviction ten years ago. A brief affair had followed, ending when they came to the mutual understanding that they didn’t mesh, and never would.

When they’d parted ways, with Sebastian unable to pay Harvey’s exorbitant fees, he’d given Harvey an open-ended promise to help him – magically – any time he wanted. It wasn’t until Mike was on his way to prison, planning to marry Rachel before he went, that Harvey, desperate enough to ignore his deep skepticism, finally took Sebastian up on his offer.

He’d been skeptical up until the moment Mike called off the wedding and left Rachel crying at the church. Later, when the immediate matrimonial danger was over, he’d had cause to wonder why he hadn’t asked Sebastian instead to exert himself to prevent Mike from going to prison, and why it had seemed more important to call off the wedding.

To atone for that decision, he’d fought harder than he ever had to get Mike out. Once he’d succeeded at that, and at helping Mike become a legitimate attorney, he’d felt as if his life was as close to perfect as it was likely to get.  Then he’d gone and blown it by rushing to Chicago to lend Jessica a hand.

In any case, he now believed that Sebastian was the real deal, and he was too fond of him to force his hand. Still, he wasn’t ready to give Mike up without a fight.

“You must sell love spells,” he said, glancing around the store. “You’ve told me often enough that you stock plenty of magic items you’d never use yourself, simply to satisfy the tourists and dabblers.”

“So?”

“So, sell me one. I won’t hold you accountable, and neither should the universe.”

“Harvey …” Sebastian sounded exasperated.

“If you don’t sell it to me, I’ll just go somewhere else.”

Sebastian’s eyes clouded with worry and irritation. He let out a noisy huff. “Fine.” He marched past Harvey, two aisles over, and pointed at the middle shelf. “There. Not much difference between the lot of them. The herbs vary, and the oils, but the end result is the same. It’s all about intent, if you’ll remember.”

“Sure.” Harvey scanned the selection and settled on the most expensive kit, plucking it from the shelf. According to the illustration on the front, it contained a candle, a packet of dried herbs, and a pinkie-sized vial of scented oil. “So, uh, how do I …?”

“There’s an instruction sheet in there. How it normally works is you charge the candle, read the incantation – and good luck not laughing your guts out at that – write your love’s name on a slip of paper, or maybe use a lock of hair if you have one, burn the note or hair, and let the candle burn itself out. If your intent is strong enough … oh, hell. What am I saying? Of course your intent is strong enough. I really, really, emphatically advise against this.”

“Noted. Now ring me up so I can get this done before it’s too late.”

Sebastian grabbed the kit from Harvey and stomped to the cash register at the front of the store. Clearly peeved, he tapped the screen half a dozen times, and took Harvey’s credit card when he handed it to him.  “You know, Harvey, you could always just tell Mike how you feel about him.” He rang up the sale and handed the card back.

“I shouldn’t have to tell him. I’ve shown him. For seven years, I’ve shown him exactly how I feel. If he doesn’t get it by now, he never will.”

“My God, listen to yourself. Sorry, Harvey, but I’m not going to wish you good luck. What you’re planning to do is wrong. Don’t get pissed at me when things fail to turn out the way you’d hoped.”

Harvey didn’t bother answering. He was in too much of a hurry to get the love spell rolling. The wedding was in five hours.

 

******

 

It took some wheedling, but Harvey managed to persuade Mike to join him for a drink that afternoon. They sat across the table from another at a bar a few blocks from the church. Mike looked twitchy and nervous, probably normal for someone getting married in less than two hours, but Harvey chose to take it as a sign that he was having second thoughts, which helped ease his conscience somewhat.

“It’s not a full-fledged bachelor party,” Harvey said, “but it’s the best I could manage on such short notice.”

The waitress set a glass of scotch in front of each of them. This was the tricky part. Harvey had rehearsed it in his head and knew he only had one chance to get it right. “Hey,” he said, pointing behind Mike, “is that Louis?”

Mike turned his head toward the door, and Harvey tipped the ashy powder into his drink. It contained a mixture of dried herbs and what was left after he’d burned the slip of paper with Mike’s name on it. The powder floated on the top of the expensive scotch. Before Harvey had a chance to stir it, Mike turned back.

“I don’t see him. Are you sure?”

“Must have been a different balding guy.”

Mike narrowed his eyes. “I thought you said it would just be the two of us.”

“You know how he is. He probably sniffed it out somehow.”

“Except that wasn’t him.”

“Ha. Good point.” Harvey was trying hard not to stare at Mike’s glass. Would he notice the powder? How could he not? It looked like a damned powdery oil slick on top of the scotch. Harvey could see it clearly from across the table.

Mike raised the glass to his lips, and then set it down without drinking. “Actually, I’m glad we have a few minutes alone. There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Harvey took a sip of his own drink, willing Mike to mirror his actions.

“It’s just … I wanted to give you a chance … Hoo boy. This is harder than I thought it would be.” He lifted his glass again, as if he meant to down it in one swift gulp. He froze, brows drawing together. “Are you kidding me?”

A busboy was passing their table, lugging a tub filled with dirty plates and glasses. Mike touched his arm, halting him, and pointed at his glass.

“Would you mind asking the bartender to pour me a fresh drink? This one looks like someone used it for an ashtray.”

The busboy shrugged and tucked the glass in with the rest of the dishes. He detoured to the bar and spoke to the bartender, gesturing at Mike across the crowded room.

Harvey wanted to bang his head on the table. He didn’t have time to buy another spell, complete it, and somehow get Mike to ingest it. That was it, then. Game over. Time to admit defeat. Maybe he should take Sebastian’s advice and tell Mike how he felt – and be prepared to let him go if, as was likely, he didn’t reciprocate his feelings.

They were both quiet until an apologetic bartender personally delivered Mike’s new drink and informed them that he’d comped the round. When he’d left, Harvey raised his glass, forcing a smile to his face, and they toasted to Mike’s future. Harvey was perhaps fifty-percent sincere.

“Speaking of your future,” said Harvey, “I think it’s past time to put you up for senior partner. You’ve earned it.”

“About that …”

“And while we’re on the subject of you …” Harvey trailed off. How could he even broach the subject?

“Harvey, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Hope lit inside Harvey. “I was just about to say the same thing. You go first.”

Mike gulped down half his drink. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk before the wedding. I didn’t want to just spring this on you in front of everyone. Rachel and I have accepted an offer to run a firm in Seattle.” He paused, eyes pleading with Harvey to understand. “Well? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

Shock rendered Harvey momentarily speechless, his mind blank. Mike was leaving New York? Not possible. Not permissible.

“Harvey?”

“I … That’s …” Harvey ordered himself to get a grip. “Congratulations. I guess. If this is what you want. Is it?”

“It is. Rachel and I talked it over, and considering my history here, a fresh start holds a certain appeal.”

Oh. His history. Harvey was part of that history, and he cherished every minute they’d spent together. Evidently, Mike didn’t feel the same way. Although he’d suspected as much, he’d always held out a sliver of hope that he was wrong. He lifted his glass, which Mike interpreted as the signal for another toast.

“To Specter & Litt,” Mike said. “You gave me my dream. I hope that all of yours come true.”

Not trusting his voice, Harvey gave Mike a tight smile before tossing back the rest of his drink.

“And now,” said Mike, shifting his weight as he prepared to stand, “I need to get back to the church before somebody sends out a search party.”

Mike rose to his feet, and Harvey did the same. They performed their handshake-morphed-into-manly-hug routine, and Harvey held on more tightly, and for longer than was strictly necessary. Mike pulled away first.

“See you over there in – ” Mike glanced at his watch. “ – in just over an hour.”

And then he was gone, leaving Harvey alone, and as close to bursting into tears in public as he’d been since he was three years old.

Propping his elbows on the table, he rested his forehead on the heels of his hand, roughly massaging the building headache. He’d blown it. He’d had one chance to salvage this day, and he’d flubbed it completely.

He heard someone slide into the seat next to him, felt the brush of a distinctly masculine arm against his, and lifted his head, fleetingly hopeful that Mike had returned to tell him he’d changed his mind about everything. It wasn’t Mike, though. It was the busboy, leaning into him with the faint odor of scotch on his breath, batting his eyelashes at him.

“Hello handsome,” he murmured in a slightly accented voice. “I’m Miguel. What’s your name?”

“My … _what?_ What the hell is this about? Stop doing that.”

Miguel had begun stroking Harvey’s thigh under the table. His dopey grin never wavered. “Ah, well, names don’t matter, _mi amor._ ” He grasped one of Harvey’s hands in both of his. “To me, you are perfect.”

“Oh, my god. Did you just – Hey, wait a minute.” It didn’t exactly take a genius to put two and two together. The scent of scotch on Miguel's breath. The sudden, ridiculous infatuation with Harvey. Somebody had been sampling the leftover drinks, specifically the one containing his love spell for Mike. It shouldn’t have worked on anyone but Mike, though. It was his name Harvey had written on the slip of paper, his name he’d whispered over and over as the charged candle burned the paper and released his intent into the universe.

Harvey pulled free and batted away the hand that kept trying to reach for his. “I’m sorry Miguel, but – ”

_Miguel_. Spanish for Mike.

A bi-lingual love spell?

_Oh, fuck me_. Harvey didn’t have time for this. He certainly didn’t have room in his life for this besotted idiot to be following him around everywhere he went.

Hating in advance the “I told you so” he knew was coming his way – and which was totally deserved – he reached for his phone and dialed the number for _Spell Craft._ When Sebastian answered, Harvey intoned darkly, “We have a problem.”

 

******

 

“Why can’t you just transfer the spell to Mike?”

Harvey had asked the question three times already. He was crammed into the backseat of a cab with Sebastian and Miguel. He’d made Sebastian sit in the middle, but Miguel still managed to get his hands on Harvey, seeming to need to remain in constant contact with him.

“For the same reason I refused to perform the spell in the first place. It’s unethical, and as you can clearly see, horribly unpredictable.”

“So, what are we going to do about this?” He nodded meaningfully toward Miguel.

“A reversal spell.” Sebastian reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a pre-packaged spell which appeared identical to the one Harvey had performed earlier.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t perform that spell.”

“I only brought this along for reference. We’ll need to reverse this precise spell and no other.”

Harvey tried to extricate his hand from Miguel’s grip, but the other man proved too strong. “And what about him? Why did we have to bring him along?”

“A botched spell can have unforeseen results. I’d rather keep an eye on him, just in case.”

Miguel tried to climb across Sebastian’s lap to get to Harvey. Thankfully, they arrived at the church just then, and they all piled out of the cab.

“What are we doing, _mi amor_?” asked Miguel, appearing utterly baffled.

Harvey spared half a second to feel sorry for him, but his voice was still impatient when he answered, “We’re here for a wedding.”

Miguel’s face lit up. “Oh, _mi coraz_ _ón,_ I never dared hope. Yes. _Si._ I’m honored.” He grasped Harvey’s shoulders and pressed himself against him, weeping with joy.

“Sebastian,” Harvey whispered through clenched teeth, glaring at him over Miguel’s head, “I am in telenovela hell.”

“Humor him for now,” Sebastian whispered back. “Trust me, it’s just easier that way.”

_Easier for who,_ Harvey wanted to ask.

Following Sebastian, and with Miguel clutching his arm like a love-sickened limpet, Harvey entered the church where Mike was marrying Rachel in less than half an hour.

They found Mike in the narthex, pacing, already dressed in his wedding suit, heart-stoppingly handsome. When he saw the three of them come in, his nervous expression changed first to relief, and then confusion.

“Harvey? Who are these people?” He stared hard at Miguel. “Wait. I’ve seen him before. Is that – ? Oh, my God. Are you kidding me? You picked up the busboy for your plus one?” He switched his gaze to Sebastian. “But who is this guy?”

Harvey put a hand on Mike’s shoulder, a gesture meant to reassure him. Miguel hissed angrily, appearing ready to launch himself at Mike and claw his eyes out.

Sebastian took charge. “I’ll explain everything. Right now, can we find somewhere more private to have this discussion?”

“What discussion? I’m about to get married. This isn’t the time – ”

“Give us two minutes. Surely you can spare that?”

Mike glanced at his watch. “Fine. But this had better be good.”

 

******

 

After Sebastian laid out the situation for Mike, they waited for his response. He stared at the floor, lower lip sucked underneath his upper teeth, shaking his head in what could have been denial or growing anger, and yanking at his tie to loosen it.

When Harvey could no longer stand the suspense, he blurted, “Well? I know it sounds a little nuts.”

“A little? Harvey, have you sustained a head injury I’m not aware of? The whole story sounds … unhinged.”

Miguel chose that moment to plant a wet, sloppy kiss on Harvey’s cheek, and then whined in frustration when Harvey pushed him away.

“Are you seeing this?” asked Harvey, gesturing toward Miguel. “This right here should be all the proof you need.”

Mike sighed and narrowed his eyes, seeming to consider. “Okay. Fine. Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you and … and … Harry Potter over there are telling the truth, as you know it.”

Sebastian let out an offended huff. “I never claimed to be a wizard.”

“Whatever. Let’s say all this is real. If that was the case – and I am in no way conceding that I believe it is – I’d want to tell you Harvey, that you’ve got one hell of a nerve.”

_Yikes. Definitely angry_.

Viewed through Mike’s eyes, what he’d done was pretty despicable. “Yes, well, I can see now that I made a mistake. I got caught up in … in …"

“In what?”

Harvey had a sinking feeling that his next confession would be believed as little as the first one. Worse, it promised to be utterly humiliating. As his face heated, he glanced at Sebastian, who gave him an encouraging _go on_ signal with his hands. Harvey didn’t want to go on. He wanted to go back to the time, just a few hours ago, when his fucked up emotions were his own problem, and he still had a chance of retaining a scrap of dignity. He’d brought this all on himself, though. Time to pay the price for his idiocy.

“Funny story. You see, the thing is, as it turns out, I’m in love with you.”

Mike went completely still. Miguel began to weep. No, more accurately, he began to wail. Harvey winced. “Sebastian, can you please get him out of here? I need to speak to Mike alone.” He spared a glance for Mike, who was glaring back at him as if he’d like to punch his lights out. Harvey couldn’t blame him.

Over Miguel’s loud objections, and using a strength not immediately evident in his slender physique, Sebastian managed to drag him out of the room.

Harvey took a step forward, “Mike …"

“You are unbelievable, Harvey. Literally, in every way imaginable, unbelievable. After seven years, with never even a suggestion as to how you felt, you come here on my wedding day and profess your love? Who does that shit?”

“Rachel Green? Benjamin Braddock?”

“They aren’t real. They are fictional, made up characters, and this is real life. _My_ life. You can’t wait seven years and then spring that on me like this. What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that the notion of you marrying someone else – the thought of losing any chance to be with you – was not acceptable. Come on, you know me. I see a wall, I push through it.”

“This is not a wall. I am not a case. This is my life.”

Harvey’s first instinct was to continue arguing, but he knew Mike was right.  He pressed his lips together against a torrent of denial and supplication and turned halfway away, ordering himself not to break down, not now, not in front of Mike.

“Okay,” he finally managed to get out. “I’m sorry. I fucked up. Will you let Sebastian do what he needs to do to fix this?”

He could feel Mike’s eyes still on him, but couldn’t bring himself to turn and see what was in them. He could guess well enough. Anger. Scorn. Pity.

Silence stretched. Finally, Mike breathed out a careful sigh. “Yes. I’ll let your friend pull your ass out of the fire, just as long as he makes it quick.”

Giving one sharp nod, Harvey left to find Sebastian and Miguel.

 

******

 

Sebastian had assured Harvey that he didn’t need to be present during the reversal spell.

“It would be simpler if you were there to help focus the energy, but knowing the way you feel, you’d be just as likely to muddy things up and throw everything off.”

“Do I even need to be in the same building?”

“You’re not staying for the wedding?”

Guilt pricked him. His absence would certainly be noticed. He was the best man, after all. He couldn’t do it, though, couldn’t stand there smiling benignly while Mike pledged himself to another person. “I think it would be better if I didn’t.”

Sebastian’s severe expression softened. He touched Harvey’s arm in a comforting gesture. “All right. Go on and take off. I’ve got this. I’ll explain it to Mike.”

It took several minutes longer, and a large amount of placating lies, to disentangle himself from Miguel’s panicked grasp. Once he’d accomplished that, Harvey walked out the front door of the church into a gathering rain storm. How appropriate, he thought sourly.

A block away, a vintage white Rolls Royce rolled toward the church. That had to be the bride. Leave it to Rachel to choose such over-the-top elegance for her big day. Although now that Harvey thought about it, he might have chosen the same, if he’d ever had the privilege to marry the man he loved.

He walked quickly in the opposite direction. Rachel might have been too distracted to notice his departure, but he decided it was best not to take chances. After two blocks, he found a free cab, and settled in the back for the drive back to Manhattan.

 

******

 

While Harvey’s cab was stuck in traffic on the Brooklyn Bridge, he received a text from Sebastian. The reversal spell was a success, and he was taking Miguel home, where he would administer a strong sedative and put him to bed. They’d left before Rachel walked down the aisle, so at least Harvey was spared any reviews, glowing or otherwise, of the blessed event.

Dispirited as he was, he couldn’t face his empty condo, not yet, so he had the cab drop him off at _McGraw’s_ , a dimly lit bar filled with dedicated drinkers and an extensive selection of single malt scotch. He settled into a corner booth and set about drinking his way into a moderately strong buzz. When his memories of the day had begun to blur around the edges, but he was still able to stand and walk out under his own power, he headed home.

Finding Mike sitting in front of his door felt like such déjà vu that for a moment he assumed he was hallucinating. Mike scrambled to his feet, proving himself to be undeniably real.

Harvey squinted at him, swaying gently. “I have to say, this seems an odd way to start your honeymoon.”

Mike stiffened. Harvey squinted harder. Mike looked … royally pissed off. Shaking his head in a failed effort to clear it, Harvey fumbled with the key to his front door, dropped it, picked it up, fumbled some more, and let them inside. Unsteady on his feet, he headed straight for the armchair and dropped into it, jarring himself when he landed harder than he’d expected.

Mike paced back and forth in front of Harvey, evidently too wound up to sit.

“Do you want a drink?” asked Harvey. He suddenly felt like he could use another one, or two, or ten, even drunk as he already was.

Mike whirled on him, stabbing a finger at Harvey’s face. “You are a piece of work, did you know that?”

“I’ve heard it said before.” He rubbed one fingertip over his eye. “Would you care to expand upon that point? You look like you have something to say.”

“Expand? Sure, I’ll expand. Let me recap the afternoon for you. You invite me out for a drink just hours before my wedding, and try to roofie me with some half-assed ‘love spell’.” He paused to make exaggerated air quotes. “Then you show up with your man-witch and … and … bewitched groupie, or whatever, and strongarm me into participating in some preemptive black magic ceremony – in a church no less!”

Wholly inappropriately, Harvey suddenly found the entire situation ridiculously absurd. It was a struggle not to give in and simply laugh out loud. “If I may interject,” he drawled, “Sebastian is a good witch, not a bad witch, and I’m eighty-five percent certain your soul has not been compromised.”

Mike gaped at him, slack-jawed. “You are a piece of work.”

“You already said that.”

“And I damn sure meant it.”

Harvey fully expected Mike’s rant to continue, but the fight seemed to have drained out of him, leaving him looking sad and … confused? Harvey shut his eyes, continuing to rub at his eyelid, as if all his grief and guilt had collected in that one spot, and if he tried hard enough, he could rub it away. “It’s not much to offer, but all I can do is say I’m sorry. And I am. I screwed up. Leaving town is probably the right choice for you.”

He opened one eye to peer at Mike, who’d made no move to leave.

“Seriously, Mike, you should be with your wife right now.”

“She’s not my wife.”

“She’s – _what?_ ”

“I left. I left her at the altar. To come here. To see you.”

Harvey gaped at him. “I’ve had a bit to drink,” he admitted slowly. “I’m not sure I heard you correctly. It sounded like you just said you left Rachel at the altar. Again.” He sat up straight, wishing his head was clearer. “I gotta tell you, buddy, I know a thing or two about women, and I doubt you’ll get a third chance.”

Unexpectedly, Mike burst into laughter – harsh, bitter laughter, but laughter just the same. This incremental lightening of the atmosphere gave Harvey hope and he realized he needed a clearer head if anything positive was to come of this conversation.

“Hang on,” said Harvey, surging to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He lurched his way to the bathroom, shut the door, and turned on the faucet, splashing cold water on his face, and then thrusting his head underneath the flow and letting it wash over him until he was shivering, and chilly water ran down his back and soaked his shirt collar. Straightening, he turned off the water and stared at himself in the mirror. He breathed in and breathed out, willing himself sober. He wasn’t completely successful, but by the time he toweled his hair dry and returned to the living room, he was moving more gracefully, and his thoughts had sharpened.

Mike was sitting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in a tangled knot, staring blankly at the floor between his feet. He didn’t look up when Harvey entered the room, but Harvey saw him tense. After hesitating for a few seconds, Harvey took a seat next to Mike, careful to leave several inches between them.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked gently.

Mike shook his head, bit his lip, and then nodded. It took him nearly a minute to find the words, which at first seemed to come completely out of left field. “You remember the first time we met? The interview at the Chilton?”

Harvey’s brows furrowed. “Of course.”

“That was the day it happened.”

“The day what happened?”

Instead of answering him directly, Mike continued, “That’s why you didn’t have to have your sorcerer pal bind me, and you didn’t need to do some cheesy love spell.” A wry smile touched his mouth. “And, honestly? Trying to picture that is boggling my mind. Big time. I mean, how is that even possible?”

Harvey grunted. “I have many layers. And facets. And you never answered the question. What happened at the interview?”

“How long have you felt this way about me?”

“Ever since that interview. Wait.” He stared at Mike, comprehension beginning to dawn. “Are you saying …?”

“I’m saying …” Mike pounded a fist against his own thigh, frustrated. “I’m saying, you didn’t need to resort to supernatural assistance. God help me, I fell for you the moment I saw you. I guess you never realized it, but you dropped a love spell on me seven years ago, and it’s been working ever since.”

Frowning, Harvey shook his head, not ready to believe him. “But you were going to marry Rachel.”

“Whose fault is that? I never would have pursued her like I did if I’d known how you felt. I never figured I stood a chance with you. In case you hadn’t noticed, you play your emotions awfully close to the vest.”

“I play –“ Words failed him for a few seconds. “I could not more strenuously disagree. I’ve shown you nearly every way I know how I feel about you. I hired you knowing you had no law degree. I protected and defended you more times than you’ll ever know. I offered to go to prison in your place. My God, Mike, for a genius you can be an idiot sometimes.”

A weak huff of laughter from Mike, more amused and less bitter this time. “And you can be an asshole.”

“Are … are you still planning to leave town?” He steeled himself for Mike to tell him that, yes, those plans remained the same.

Mike’s actual response shocked him. Without saying a word, he grabbed Harvey’s shirt collar with both hands, dragged his face closer, and kissed him. The kiss was clumsy, imperfect, out of synch. Their teeth clacked together. Mike pulled away. They gazed at one another, breathing hard.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” Harvey rasped.

“Why is your shirt wet?”

Harvey laughed in spite of himself, all the while staring helplessly back at Mike, studying every beautiful millimeter of his face.  “Answer the question.”

The corners of Mike’s mouth crimped. “Who’s the idiot now, Harvey? Do the math.”

Their next kiss was a distinct improvement. Mike slipped his tongue into Harvey’s mouth, held the sides of his face, and ran his thumbs over his cheekbones. Harvey’s eyes drifted shut as he reveled in the blaze of heat buzzing along his nerve endings. Grabbing Mike around the shoulders, he pressed him back against the sofa, effectively hijacking the kiss.

At the next, oxygen-gulping pause, Harvey managed to gasp, “This is nice but … too many clothes.”

“Way too many.”

 

******

 

Much later, as they lay in bed together, Harvey asked, “Was Rachel very angry?”

Mike grimaced. “You could say that. Just do me a favor and don’t give her Sebastian’s number. She’d probably ask him to put a curse on both of us.”

“His scruples would never permit that.”

“Scruples? He helped you with that love spell, didn’t he?”

“Nope, that was all me.”

“Impressive.”

“Not really. I screwed it up pretty badly.”

Mike traced patterns on Harvey’s bare chest as he seemed to consider this. “Is that other guy – Miguel? – is he going to be okay?”

“Sebastian seems to think so. He just needs to sleep it off.”

Mike yawned. “This has been a weird day.”

Harvey agreed, but didn’t bother saying so out loud, because it had ultimately turned out to be the best day of his life. He finally had everything he wanted. He’d give it a while, for form’s sake, but eventually he’d be proposing to Mike. Maybe he’d suggest they elope. His arms tightened around Mike, who snuggled closer.

Harvey still couldn’t believe how this day had ended. He might have been half-inclined to believe that the love spell had actually worked on Mike, except his behavior was nothing like Miguel’s had been. His feelings had to be genuine. He could have kicked himself for waiting so long to come clean about his own feelings. It pained him to think of all those years they’d lost. He couldn’t do anything about that, though.

All he could do was start now, with what he had in front of him. What he had was Mike, so he held him close and vowed never to let him go.

 

******

 

On the street outside Harvey’s building, Sebastian stood in a pool of shadows, watching the penthouse windows. When the last light winked out up there, he gave one short nod of satisfaction, pleased that the truth powder he’d dusted on Mike’s skin had done its work, and that Mike’s truth had evidently been what Harvey wanted to hear.

“There you go, Harvey,” he murmured, turning to leave. “Now we’re even.”

 

**The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to naias, for the beta read. I always appreciate your valuable insights.
> 
> And I should probably add the disclaimer that I know next to nothing about magic, and was just making stuff up, as usual.
> 
> To everyone: thanks for reading, and let's hope that 2019 is an improvement over the horrifying 2018. (ITMFA!!!)


End file.
